Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
This is not a poem
It's a memory fleeting
I can't control this and
it's just eating and eating
away at my skin
and my bones
and my blood is boiling,
hot to the touch as you walk away from me.
Letting go, I've never iced over so fast.
You mean(t) everything to me, and I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this.
redspace
Written by
redspace
394
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems